


Permutations of the Bells

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural, Superwho - Fandom, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Bells, Churches & Cathedrals, Harkstiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Harkstiel Holiday Advent. Jack consents (clearly with some prodding) to accompany Castiel hear change ringers at Llandaff Cathedral in Cardiff over the holidays. He's bored in five (two) minutes, but unusually determined to put up with the boredom for the sake of Castiel's clear interest. As a result, even a being as ancient as Captain Jack Harkness learns something new about the culture in which he swims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permutations of the Bells

The bells of Llandaff Cathedral rang a chaotic iron haze of sound. Jack didn't see the appeal - he never had, really - but something about it hypnotized Castiel. They stood outside the cathedral to hear the bells, braving a cold so clear and sharp it made Jack's lungs ache. Around them stood a hardy handful of strangers, muffled in dark wool and bright Polartech. Like Castiel's, every nose pointed to heaven as they listened. His eyes were closed, body tucked into Jack's side and hand wrapped around the bend of Jack's elbow. He took no more notice of the parishioner flock around them than if they'd been actual sheep, attention bent rapt on the bells.

Jack was bored in five minutes.

Probably more like two, if he was honest, but two could be stretched to the more noble five without a whiff of guilt about it.

He couldn't exactly leave and he couldn't exactly stand another twenty-five minutes of staring at the side of a bloody church, so he opted to watch people. There were a few faces just as flat with boredom as his. He smiled solidarity at them when their eyes met. Like him, they held the hands and arms of more interested listeners. Ah yes. The brotherhood of martyrs was strong tonight. A few of the group were expensively dressed and swaddled in furs, others hugged themselves against the chill, pulling layers of sweater and fleece jumper in tight. A few faces skewed younger, but not many. He and Castiel easily looked the youngest of the group - fine irony, that. He studied their clothes and their behavior; their little tells with one another and the badges of life they wore. These were all fine upstanding Welsh folk, of the sort that might be neighbors to Gwen. Round cheeks stained red with cold, they jigged in place for warmth like restless horses, all except Castiel. The angel in the midst of the sheep might have been a piece of statuary, free hand in his coat pocket, the other still tucked into Jack's elbow. Looking up, listening to the bells long after even the most ardent spectator had gotten restless.

Curiosity got the better of Jack eventually - Castiel was the last mystery in the herd. He leaned down to murmur in Castiel's ear. "Something's got your attention, Archer."

Castiel's eyes flicked to Jack, the rest of his head following a half-step behind. "The bells," he said, adding, "the equations," in an exasperated tone when Jack snorted down a laugh.

"The equations?" Jack echoed, still in an undertone. Castiel nodded, eyes closing again.

"The ringers are playing patterns," he explained, "permutations as old as the bells they ring; perhaps older."

In light of that, Jack finally gave the bells his attention again. He shrugged one shoulder after a moment, unable to pick out a pattern. "I don't hear it."

"Listen longer, Jack," Castiel demanded.

Jack huffed, but obeyed. As he did, the individual chimes of the bells came through. There were the lower voices of the tenor bells, missed beneath their higher-pitched siblings. He heard them separately, not as random chaos but arranging themselves in chains of notes. They swung in his mind, a little offset from one another. As he closed his eyes, the patterns began to come through.

"Numbers, Jack," Castiel said, the hypnotized bliss slipping into his voice again, "beautifully predictable. You should see these sounds in my plane. They make shapes."

Jack smiled to hear his partner's fascination. Of the many things he found charming about Castiel, his intense interest and concentration ranked near the top. "I thought you couldn't see, not having eyes and all," he observed casually.

Castiel hip-checked him a little harder than necessary. "I could explain, but your puny mortal brain couldn't possibly process it," he replied with a smile.

Jack's laughter momentarily drowned out the permutations of the bells. But like everything from atoms to stars and galaxies, they swept on.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to learn more about the actual mathematics that go into the art of change ringing, [click here for a mini documentary.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lyDCUKsWZs) And if you'd like to hear the bells of the actual Llandaff Cathedral, [check out this YouTube video!](http://youtu.be/doXR9zSimuc)
> 
> Yes, I spent about two hours researching this crap for a 680-some word story. I know, it's a problem.


End file.
